Pity, not vengeance
by akhaleesi
Summary: Cato's POV of his death in The Hunger Games. And a bit about Clove and Cato. MY FIRST FANFIC.


Pity, not vengeance. -Cato's death-

"Run." I tell myself. Run, just run. Run or be dead. The echoing of the mutations behind me grows louder. The mockingjays in the surrounding trees being to shriek in a cry of fear. A very painful, distorted cry. The mockingjay, the symbol of rebellion was crying. The sound of terror bought me back to home. Home was District 2 where my mother told my four siblings and me secretive stories, passed down from generation to generation about a land called America in a time that was too far back to ever look upon again. The time when people were free to do whatever, to talk to whoever, to have a future. The mockingjays' cry bought back images of Tricko, my youngest brother. Tricko is only nine, his birthday two days ago. A birthday in which will never celebrated. The cries make a vivid picture of Tricko's piercing cry when he was whipped by Peacemakers for cooking and eating a small bird he caught- he was only six. He was not only whipped, but was brutally beaten to the point where he is now no longer able to walk. Tricko had come to say goodbye to me after the reaping but was hauled out of the Justice Building for throwing a tantrum because he didn't want me to leave. Right now, I have to win for my family, for Tricko.

The muttations were fast. But I kept running. I tore through the trees and the branches cut into my skin but I didn't care. I need to get to the Cornucopia and let the mutts kill off the other tributes because I had barely any strength left from wrestling with Thresh. I broke into the area where the lake was, tired and dripping with sweat. The lake looked so serene, so peaceful. But there was nothing peaceful about this place, about this world. And there they were, the two star crossed lovers from District 12. Suprisingly Peeta has actually made it this far after I cut his thigh, but this is as far as he will go. Ignoring them I continue to head for the golden horn- I'll finish them off later. As I approach them, Katniss' eyes glisten and she lets go of the string on her bow. The arrow hits me right in the chest and rebounds to the ground. Foolish, girl. She doesn't even know I have this armour on. I still continue to run even though I feel like I will break down at any point now. I can't give in, not now, not ever.

I make it to the Cornucopia and climb. The amour is heavy and it's weighing me down. But finally, I reach the top, exhausted and drained. I lie down and pant and gag and pant more. I stare into the sky and watch the clouds. At first I see just white fluffy clouds, empty and alone. Then I see my mother's face and her soft smile and creasing eyes. Then I see Tricko, his blood smeared all over the carpets after he was wipped and beaten. And finally, the one face I didn't want to see- Clove's. Lying dead on the ground with her head bashed in, and Thresh and Katniss towering over her. Clove, the biggest regret in my life, not being able to talk to her properly because of these stupid, stupid games. A flash back came to my head again.

_Back in District 2, on the day of the reaping…_

_"Clove Clemens!" As soon as her name was called I had no idea what to do. I could either volunteer so I could keep her alive, or want to stay here and avoid having to kill her._

_"Cato Keizer!" My name rung in my ears. I was frozen on the spot not knowing what to think. Around me, my friends cheered me on and pushed me up onto the stage. They knew I could win because I was one of the best ranked combat students. But not this year, not with Clove as a tribute. When I stood on the stage, I glanced at Clove who turned and smiled at me. A smile that meant "Let's kill." From then on, I vowed to keep her safe. She would win this year and go home victorious._

_On the trip to the Capitol, I consistently had images of Clove in my head. I first met her after the whipping of my brother. Her mother was a nurse who tended for Tricko. Clove came along to help with her mother's work some days. We became friends then, Clove and I, and we have become an inseparable team ever since. Even though we did many things together, Clove had always failed to notice my growing attraction and affection towards her. But it was not until the day of the Reaping did I realise that I was madly and entirely in love with her…_

I snapped out of my vision feeling dazed and confused at where I was for a moment. The arena, I told myself. I need to win this. And not much time later, Peeta has climbed up the horn, followed by his dear lover, Katniss. I quickly jump to my feet and grab Peeta in a headlock cutting off his air supply. Like a useless little kid, claws at my arm. Pathetic. Katniss pulls at the string of her bow, aiming for my head. I laugh.

"Shoot me and he goes down with me." She scrunches up her face in realization. Killing off Peeta will be easy, and then I can just throw Katniss into the roaring evil mutts down below. But all of a sudden, weak as he is, Peeta pulls out his knife and draws an _X_ on the back of my hand. My smile drops. No.

And before I could dare shift a muscle, Katniss' arrow burrows itself into my hand. I release my grip on Peeta and plummet to the ground where the mutts await me with my death. With the amour I am able to hold off a few mutts but don't know for how long. I pull out my switchblade, my last weapon, and start to slice at their bodies. They all wear a collar with a gold plate of their district number on it. I grip the blade harder and cut them deeper. Number 10, 6 and 4 howl as they fall to the ground. Dead. Their eyes were so real, what have the Capitol done? There are too many and I am outnumbered. There is no way I could kill them all. So with each strike I make with my switchblade, I do it for someone I love. One slash across mutt number 5's leg - mother. Number 9's neck - father. Father, who was killed by the Capitol. Number 11, Thresh, I knew it was him, those eyes... For Clove. As the moon begins to rise, the mutt's eyes glow brighter. And then I see it. Or should I say, _her._ It was Clove. Her eyes were too familiar to draw away from. Too beautiful and too green like the grass in the meadows. The number 2 on her collar was too captivating, too intriguing, like her flowing dark hair and rosy cheeks. As I snapped out of the trance, it was all too late. The Clove mutt, swiped me across the face as the others tore at my body. My blade went flying and I cried out in pain. It was over. I had no fight left and I knew I was going to die. The pain was horrible and excruciating, unbearable. But why wasn't I dead yet? It hit me. The Capitol and the audience want a show. A tribute would have to kill me. I look up at the Cornucopia and see the other two are both asleep. I just wanted to swear at them until they wake up. They are both sleeping together snuggled up and for a moment there, it seemed so perfect and picturesque. Something that Clove and I couldn't ever have.

I suffered more gruelling claws down my chest and teeth to my face and limbs where the amour had come apart. The sun began to rise and I was bathing covered in my own blood, and barely able to breathe. Please, end this. I look up the horn again and this time I see Katniss looking down at me. I mouth at her, _please._ Please kill me. End my torture and misery. Katniss took out her last arrow, pulled the string of her bow against her chin and then I see it, like deja vu, a peice of the future where the Capitol had fallen. Katniss, the girl from district 12 was going to lead the rebels of the nation out of the grasp of the Capitol. She was the mockingjay. Those mockingjay in the forest had been calling for her help. She was the one.

Kill Snow, kill the Capitol. For Tricko, for Clove, for District 2, for Panem. And then, all was black.


End file.
